


You Are My Fire

by LiGi



Series: Camelove 2021 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Camelove 2021, Caring Lancelot (Merlin), GWAINCELOT!, Gwaincelot, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), Lancelot feeding Gwaine, M/M, because that is my jam now, campfire snuggling, homoerotic campfire, i am obsessed with gwaincelot ok, i feel like that should get its own tag, i love them both so much, knights in shining armour, lancelot's deep intense gaze, my boys!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29310717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiGi/pseuds/LiGi
Summary: Gwaine dumped the armful of firewood down at Lancelot’s feet. Lancelot looked up from the rabbit he was skinning with a raised eyebrow.“Are you expecting it to light itself?” he asked wryly.“That’d be nice,” Gwaine said wistfully. His teeth were chattering already and his fingers were numb with the cold.He dug in his pack for the tinderbox and flint, dropping them both from his trembling fingers. He swore and picked them up, trying to coax a flame to life. After several attempts he growled his frustration. Lancelot looked over, then put down the rabbit and his knife, wiped his bloody hands on his breeches and scooted over to Gwaine’s side. He took the flint, his warmer fingers brushing softly against the back of Gwaine’s hand.A little Gwaine/Lancelot snuggling by a campfire, written for Camelove 2021
Relationships: Gwaine/Lancelot (Merlin)
Series: Camelove 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150931
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: Camelove 2021





	You Are My Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'I Want It That Way' by The Backstreet Boys  
> (Previously titled Light My Fire)
> 
> My boys!! I am more than a little obsessed with Gwaincelot. In case nobody knew that. And so Knights day of Camelove seemed like the perfect reason to write my favourite rare pair (please someone explain to my just WHY they are a rare pair, they seem perfect for each other...)  
> Enjoy some campfire snuggling - and a little more...

Gwaine dumped the armful of firewood down at Lancelot’s feet. Lancelot looked up from the rabbit he was skinning with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you expecting it to light itself?” he asked wryly.

“That’d be nice,” Gwaine said wistfully. His teeth were chattering already and his fingers were numb with the cold.

He dug in his pack for the tinderbox and flint, dropping them both from his trembling fingers. He swore and picked them up, trying to coax a flame to life. After several attempts he growled his frustration. Lancelot looked over, then put down the rabbit and his knife, wiped his bloody hands on his breeches and scooted over to Gwaine’s side. He took the flint, his warmer fingers brushing softly against the back of Gwaine’s hand.

He managed to get the tinder lit relatively easily and tucked it into the nest of stick kindling in the fire pit. Within minutes they had a roaring fire and Gwaine huddled as close to it as he could get, his fingers stinging as heat returned to them. He built up a frame over the fire ready for the spit to go across and added more logs to the flames.

“Here.” Lancelot passed him the rabbit, prepared and ready on the spit. He balanced it on the frame.

Lancelot tipped a little water from his waterskin over his hands to rinse them, hissing at the temperature of the icy water, then tucked his hands up under his armpits.

“Cold, isn’t it?” Gwaine said, rather redundantly and Lancelot chuckled.

He moved over so he was sitting right beside Gwaine, their shoulders and knees bumping together. Gwaine smiled, he liked the closeness. He reached across and draped one hand over Lancelot’s closest leg, curling it around under his thigh. Lancelot shifted to get more comfortable, leaning against Gwaine’s side.

They sat like that, in companionable silence, for a while, watching the flames dancing. Every now and then Lancelot would lean forwards and turn the spit, their little camp filling with the smell of roasting rabbit. Gwaine’s stomach rumbled loudly and Lancelot laughed.

“It’s almost ready,” he whispered, letting his head rest on Gwaine’s shoulder, grumbling when the chainmail pressed into his cheek.

Willing to do anything to make Lancelot more comfortable leaning on him, Gwaine leant backwards, unclasped his cloak and started undoing his belt.

“Gwaine, what are you doing?” Lancelot asked, exasperatedly.

“Taking my chain off. It’s uncomfortable.”

“You’ll get colder,” Lancelot warned.

“Not if I have your body heat keeping me warm,” Gwaine said with a smirk, dropping his belt next to the log he was sitting on and starting to haul his chainmail up over his head.

Lancelot reached over to help him pull the heavy metal off, letting it drop to the floor with a _shiink_ of metal rings against each other. He picked Gwaine’s cloak up and draped it back over his shoulders, clasping it under his chin, his fingers tickling at his collarbone, one running up his neck to scratch at his beard.

Gwaine hummed appreciatively.

“And you,” he said, tilting his chin towards Lancelot.

He grabbed Lancelot’s belt, yanking him closer with it then unbuckled it. Lancelot fumbled with the clasp of his own cloak, the fabric sliding back off his shoulders as he raised his arms. Gwaine tugged his chainmail off, adding it to the pile of his own.

Lancelot leant to turn the spit again then collapsed back against his side, wrapping one arm around Gwaine’s waist under his cloak. Gwaine could already feel the other man’s warmth seeping into his side through his gambeson. He tucked his hand back around Lancelot’s thigh again, his fingers warming up with the heat of his inner leg.

Lancelot yawned, his head tucking into Gwaine’s shoulder.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep, Lance. You’ve got to eat first.” His stomach growled again and he felt Lancelot shaking as he laughed into his neck.

“Sounds like you can’t wait any longer,” Lancelot said, sitting up and reaching across to poke Gwaine in the stomach.

“Sorry, it’s hours since we had luncheon,” he grumbled. “Aren’t you hungry too?”

“Of course. My stomach just isn’t as vocal as yours.”

Gwaine lifted his hand from Lancelot’s thigh, sliding it up and through the gap in the front of his gambeson, digging his fingertips into the taut muscles of Lancelot’s stomach through his shirt. Lancelot hummed then chuckled and flinched backwards as Gwaine tickled him.

“Bastard,” he muttered affectionately.

Gwaine just grinned, withdrawing his hand. He nodded at the fire.

“Is it done yet?”

Sighing at Gwaine’s impatience, Lancelot got up and knelt by the fire. He carefully prodded the rabbit, his fingers jerking back involuntarily from the heat of the meat. He tried again, testing the give of the flesh to check if it was cooked all the way through.

“Feels done,” he said happily, lifting the spit off the frame. He sat back down on the log and balanced the stick across his knees, spreading his legs wider so only the cooler ends of the stick were touching his legs.

Gwaine reached over to take a bit but Lancelot slapped his hand away.

“Let it rest a moment.”

Gwaine grumbled. He was practically drooling from the smell of the roast meat. His leg jiggled as he waited, watching Lancelot gently turning the spit on his knees to allow the meat to retain its juices as it rested.

When Gwaine was almost ready to just snatch the spit from him, Lancelot pinched off a tender chunk then blew on it and held it up to Gwaine’s lips. It was still hot and almost burnt his tongue but the smoky gamey flavour was delicious. Gwaine groaned contentedly.

“Good?” Lancelot asked smugly.

“You know you’re a better cook than me,” Gwaine said, shoving his shoulder and leaning closer to take another bit of meat.

“I like feeding you,” Lancelot said with another laugh as Gwaine groaned again. “You’re so appreciative.”

“What can I say? I appreciate the good things in life. Speaking of…” He reached down and grabbed his spare waterskin, which of course, didn’t have water in. He held it out to Lancelot. “Ale?”

Chuckling, Lancelot took it and thumbed the stopper out, taking a swig before passing it back. Gwaine knocked back a long gulp, sighing blissfully.

Lancelot held up another piece of rabbit meat for him, letting Gwaine lick his fingers as he took it. God, he was getting spoilt, being cooked for and hand fed. Not that he was complaining. He grinned as he chewed.

“What are you smirking about?” Lancelot asked, pulling one of the hind legs off the rabbit and biting the meat off the bone.

“Ah, you know me.” He flicked his hair out of his face. “Just happy.”

Lancelot gave him a wide smile and handed the spit over for Gwaine to help himself. Gwaine had to admit he was a little disappointed, but he couldn’t really have expected Lancelot to hand feed him the whole meal. He pulled off the other leg and lifted it to his mouth quickly to hide his snigger at the thought.

Lancelot watched Gwaine as they ate, his dark eyes tracking Gwaine’s fingers as he licked them, the bob of his throat as he swallowed. Gwaine had gotten used to having Lancelot’s eyes on him recently; he liked it, the feel of his keen gaze.

Once they’d finished the rabbit, Gwaine took the bones and other remnants a couple of yards away from their camp and buried them so the smell wouldn’t draw any animals during the night.

Lancelot was adding more logs to the fire when Gwaine returned, prodding it with a stick. Gwaine took a moment just standing watching, enjoying the way the firelight flickered in his friend’s dark eyes as he looked up at him with a deep intensity that made Gwaine’s heart pound.

“I can take first watch,” Lancelot offered, sitting back on the log.

“Nah, you were almost asleep earlier. I’ll do it,” Gwaine argued half-heartedly. Really he preferred to do the dawn watch, but he felt like he should offer since Lancelot had been so exhausted before dinner.

“I know you like to do the morning one, Gwaine. I don’t mind.”

He huffed out a small laugh, Lancelot knew him too well.

“Fine. But wake me and we’ll swap if you get too tired, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

The thing was, Gwaine also knew Lancelot too well. Lancelot would not wake him until it was his turn, regardless of how tired he felt. But he also would not back down. He was too damned stubborn.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. He shifted his pack beside the log and lay down, using the pack to cushion his back so he could comfortably rest his head on the log next to where Lancelot was sitting. He kicked his legs out straight alongside the fire and tucked his cloak around them.

“Pass the ale?”

Lancelot dropped the waterskin onto his chest. Gwaine pulled the stopper out with his teeth and spat it at Lancelot. It would have hit him square on the forehead if his hand hadn’t shot up and snatched it out of the air.

“Nice try,” Lancelot drawled, flicking it back.

Taking a gulp, he passed the skin over so Lancelot could have the last few mouthfuls. As he put the cork back in after draining it, Lancelot gave the empty waterskin an apprising look before tossing it gently to the floor. He licked his lips.

“That’s good. Was it from the castle brewery?”

“Nah, the Rising Sun,” Gwaine said, looking up at him with a grin. “The innkeeper likes to give me a couple of skinfuls when he knows I’m away for a few days. ‘Looking after his best patron’ he says.”

“He’s changed his tune,” Lancelot said with a laugh. “I thought he didn’t like you.”

“Ah, ever since I became a knight, he’s said it’s an honour that I drink at his tavern.” He gave Lancelot a wry smile. “Funny how money can do that.”

Lancelot hummed, his forehead creasing. Gwaine reached up, letting the backs of his fingers lightly brush Lancelot’s cheek until the frown vanished.

Lancelot bent and pressed a kiss to the top of Gwaine’s forehead, right on his hairline. It tickled slightly and he wrinkled his brow, making Lancelot chuckle and smooth a hand over it.

“Sleep well, my friend.”

“Cheers.”

He shuffled down a little, his shoulder bumping Lancelot’s leg. Then shut his eyes, listening to the comforting pop and crackle of the fire.

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again, sleep eluding him. He glanced up at Lancelot, who was gazing into the trees, completely lost in thought. He looked, as always in Gwaine’s opinion, utterly gorgeous. His forehead had the tiniest of wrinkles in it, the shadows cast by the firelight catching in the dip between his eyebrows. He was absentmindedly picking at a snag on one fingernail.

It would be so easy for Gwaine to reach up and drag Lancelot down to him, press their lips and bodies together, let his fingers slip under his shirt to find hot skin. He let the idea float happily across his mind, heat pooling below his stomach. He should just do it.

They’d been dancing around it for weeks, months even. Gwaine was never shy when he put his hands on Lancelot, letting them linger in places they shouldn’t. And Lancelot’s deep intense gaze followed Gwaine near constantly, the heat and desire plain for everyone to see. If Gwaine was a little over the edge of tipsy he’d bury his face in Lancelot’s neck, kissing and biting at his collarbone. Lancelot in return would brush Gwaine’s hair after training and press a kiss to his forehead when he was done.

They’d shared beds and woken up wrapped around one another. They’d even shared baths and washed each others’ backs.

But they’d never quite crossed the line to take it further before, and Gwaine was racking his brain for reasons why. Out here, by themselves, the desire in the air was palpable, it crackled like the fire every time Gwaine touched Lancelot, or Lancelot let his gaze linger.

At that moment, Lancelot glanced down, his eyebrows dipping when he spotted Gwaine was still awake.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, reaching over to thread his fingers into Gwaine’s hair. Gwaine rubbed his head into his hand. He sighed, sliding one arm out from under his cloak blanket and looping it around Lancelot to rest against his far hip.

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

“Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” Lancelot teased. Gwaine gave his hip a pinch. “What were you thinking about?”

“You.”

“Oh?” Lancelot’s voice was curious, if a little surprised. “What about me?”

Gwaine turned his head to the side, nuzzling his nose into Lancelot’s hip, trying to think of the right way to say it.

Lancelot slipped down off the log, sitting beside Gwaine on the ground, his fingers still buried in Gwaine’s hair. He turned so he was facing Gwaine properly, then leant over him, his dark eyes fixed on Gwaine’s, the pupils blown wide by the lack of light except the flickering fire.

“What about me, Gwaine?” he whispered, his hot breath ghosting over Gwaine’s cheek. His mouth was mere inches from Gwaine’s own. And if that wasn’t invitation, Gwaine didn’t know what was.

“Mostly…” He put his hand on Lancelot’s hip, fingers digging in as he pulled him closer. “Mostly this…”

As he lifted his head up, Lancelot brought his down and they met with a fierce passion. Lancelot’s lips were soft and needy, his teeth grazing Gwaine’s lip as he pressed forwards. Gwaine couldn’t help grinning into the kiss, making their teeth scrape together. He chuckled, Lancelot taking the opportunity to delve his tongue into Gwaine’s mouth.

Gwaine groaned and pulled Lancelot down to him, so he was practically lying on his chest. His weight was comforting, warm and heavy, pressing Gwaine down into the ground.

“Yes, Gwaine…” Lancelot groaned, his fingers at the back of Gwaine’s neck, twisting into his hair and holding him close. Gwaine’s chest fluttered at the sound of his name, Lancelot’s voice deeper and huskier than usual.

He’d fantasised about kissing Lancelot like this, but the reality was much better. It felt right, like the next logical move after the weeks of build up.

His hand found its way onto Lancelot’s arse, squeezing the firm muscle and making Lancelot moan low in his throat. They kissed harder, tongues and teeth and hot gasps. Lancelot bit his lip, his tongue swiping over the graze afterwards. Then pulled back slightly, trailing kisses over his cheek. His teeth dragged through Gwaine’s beard, and he bit his jaw. Gwaine threw his head back with a groan, letting Lancelot ravish his jaw and down his stubbled throat.

Lancelot’s deft fingers pulled at the ties on the front of Gwaine’s gambeson, opening it and pushing the shirt underneath it up. His hands were cool against Gwaine’s hot skin and Gwaine hissed, arching into Lancelot’s touch.

He leant forwards, pushing Lancelot back slightly so they were sitting more upright. Gwaine let his hands roam Lancelot’s back, yanking his gambeson up and sliding his hands under his shirt to tuck into the back of his breeches.

Lancelot shifted, lifting one knee and pushing it between Gwaine’s legs so he was straddling his thigh. He ground his hips down against him and Gwaine groaned again. His head was feeling light, dizzy with pleasure. He nuzzled into the crook of Lancelot’s neck, kissing his collarbone, leaving a trail of hot wet kisses up his neck. Then rocked his hips upwards, his thigh bumping Lancelot’s groin. Lancelot let out a breathy gasp which Gwaine captured as he pressed their lips together in an open mouthed kiss.

Slick tongues twisted together as hips began to move. Gwaine’s belly was hot with desire, his muscles taut, coiling in pleasure.

Somewhere in the trees above them there was a loud screech of an owl. They jumped. The spell of lust broken as they were startled back to reality. Now was not the time or the place for this.

Lancelot gave a guilty chuckle as he pulled back, his lips red and glistening in the firelight. Gwaine groaned, rubbed a hand over his face and shifted away as well.

“Damn,” Lancelot muttered.

Gwaine gulped, shifting where he sat, trying to get himself back under control.

“Yeah…” he said, his voice husky. He risked a look over at Lancelot. The other knight was biting his lip and it took all of Gwaine’s self control not to surge back forwards and bite it himself.

Lancelot leant forwards and stoked the fire, tossing another log onto it. As he sat back against their log seat he yawned.

“You get some sleep, Lance,” Gwaine offered with a soft smile. “I’ll finish the first watch.”

“No, I’ll-”

Gwaine cut him off with a hand cupping his cheek, his thumb over Lancelot’s lips.

“Sleep.” He stroked his thumb along Lancelot’s bottom lip, following it with a quick kiss before he pulled back. “I’m going to take a piss.”

He got up, tugging at the front of his breeches to alleviate some of the pressure. He wandered away from the camp, kicking a few dead leaves as he did so. Pressing his forehead into the rough bark of a tree, he sighed as he unlaced his breeches.

When he got back, Lancelot had slumped down and curled onto his side, his cloak bundled around him. Gwaine sat down beside him, picking up his own cloak and pulling it tight around his shoulders. He let Lancelot shift closer and lay his head on his lap. Gwaine couldn’t resist stroking his hair, playing with the short curls at the nape of his neck.

“That tickles,” Lancelot murmured.

Gwaine grinned. His fingers danced down the back of Lancelot’s neck, poking under the collar of his shirt. Lancelot hunched his shoulders up and tipped his head back, huffing out a little laugh.

“Stop it!” he laughed, squirming.

Gwaine conceded, laying his palm flat against Lancelot’s neck instead. This time Lancelot hummed and pressed back against his hand. He snuggled down, rubbing his cheek on Gwaine’s thigh as his hand came up to curl around it. Gwaine melted, his heart swelling with adoration. He let out a sigh and watched Lancelot drift off to sleep.


End file.
